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"Look here, Bill," cried Maurice. "You don't want'a hurt Teacher Stanhope's feelin's, do you!",

Eagle dumbly pointed to the Captain's cabin. "It's an artfully laid plot," said he, "if the Capt'n's to be believed. She's supposed to be locked up agin her will. By-and-by she's to go among the sailors and swear that[Pg 273] she's been carried off by violence. This is to make her father believe that she never consented to run away, as she don't want to lose the fortune as 'ud otherwise come to her.",

"Perhaps so," returned the old gentleman dryly, "but, you see, I happen to have heard an opinion of friend Ringdo's gentle nature from a certain learned pedagogue, whose wounds I dressed recently. So, my dear young lady, if you will be good enough to keep tight hold of him for a moment, I'll follow my renowned friend into the parlor and learn how Frank is coming along." And suiting the action to the words he edged slowly around the table and, backing into the parlor, closed the door.,

Then, just as he drew near to the edge of the grove, he caught his breath in terror and the cold sweat leaped out on his fear-blanched face. Drifting directly toward him white as driven snow, came the ghost. It was bearing straight down upon him! His knees grew weak, refused to hold him, and he sagged weakly against a tree. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

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"I'm afraid I don't quite understand—" commenced the amazed Stanhope.,

"But it is impossible, Lucy," said Captain Acton, "to make a hero out of such a fellow as this: a man who forges sealed orders supposed to be written by me! A rogue who not only steals my property, but kidnaps my daughter by a lie!",

"It is a draft or copy," said Captain Acton. "It is undated, and it is without the formal beginning of My dear, etc.",

On the top-most branch of a tall, dead pine, close beside the wood-pile, sat the tame crow, Croaker, his head cocked demurely on one side, as he listened to the woman's righteous abuse. Croaker could no more help filling his claws with chips and dirt and wobbling the full length of a line filled with snowy, newly-washed clothes than he could help upsetting the pan of water in the chicken-pen, when he saw the opportunity. He hated anything white with all his sinful little heart and he hated the game rooster in the same way. He was always in trouble with Ma Wilson, always in trouble with the rooster. Only when safe in the highest branch of the pine was he secure, and in a position to talk back to his persecutors.